


the sweetest music is your pulse

by indigorose50



Series: No Shame November Fics [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: [Dorothea gave the hand a light squeeze before slipping to rest two fingers on her wrist. The reassuring thrum of Ingrid’s pulse made Dorothea sigh. “I could compose a song to that beat,” she said, intertwining their fingers. “Would you like that? I can’t imagine you would. Attention makes you so flustered.”]
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Manuela Casagranda, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Series: No Shame November Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997986
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	the sweetest music is your pulse

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the "No-Shame November" club because it's a shame I haven't written for these two yet. I adore Ingrid and Dorothea. Intsys gets a letter from me every day asking where the A support is.

Dorothea opened the infirmary door with her hip, hands busy with a tray of breakfast. “Good morning, Ingrid!”

There was only one patient in the infirmary at the moment. The room was empty, save Ingrid and Dorothea. Manuela was having a shouting match with Shamir downstairs but from the looks of things she had already been by to check on Ingrid.

“Don’t worry, I only grabbed your favorites. It was Flayn and Dedue cooking today so you’re in for a treat!” Dorothea set the tray on a free bed and put a bowl of thinned soup on Ingrid’s bedside table. “Mint tea today,” she added, placing a cup of steaming tea beside the bowl. The cup of sweet berry she took for herself and sat on the empty bed, facing Ingrid. 

“It’s lucky you don’t have such long hair anymore— though I do miss it of course! But it would make upkeep harder right now. I mentioned it to Merci the other day and she said she wished she could have practiced hairstyles on you before you cut it.” She sipped her tea. “Ah well. You’re lucky, you could pull off any style and still look beautiful! With just a little help, a bit of makeup or hair oil, you could even be  _ gorgeous _ !” 

Dorothea giggled to herself, but sobered quickly and looked into her tea. “But only if you want to, my dear. I know you’re not always comfortable with that stuff.”

Gently as possible, Dorothea reached out and took Ingrid’s hand. The skin was rough from tending to her pegasus and endlessly training with lances and swords. Her nails were short; not bitten down but filed carefully. Ingrid might not care for make up but she did pay attention to such little details. 

Dorothea gave the hand a light squeeze before slipping to rest two fingers on her wrist. The reassuring thrum of Ingrid’s pulse made Dorothea sigh. “I could compose a song to that beat,” she said, intertwining their fingers. “Would you like that? I can’t imagine you would. Attention makes you so flustered.”

It was getting harder and harder every day. Dorothea put her tea back on the tray so she could kneel by Ingrid’s bed. She held Ingrid’s hand with both her own and kissed her knuckle. “Ingrid. Ingrid,  _ please _ . Let today be the day.”

The morning sun made the bottles of tonics and other medicines glitter like jewels— but it turned Ingrid even paler. She lay unmoving on the bed. Under the blankets, Dorothea knew her torso was bound with bandages. One eye was encircled with a brilliant bruise. Dorothea herself had washed the blood from her hair but there was still a sizable wound on her temple, currently padded with a thick white cloth. 

Nothing in this war had been fair but Dorothea took offence to this one. The fight at Lake Teutates had been difficult for all involved— constant reinforcements, enemies in the mist, unfamiliar terrain, a giant talking turtle. But the Blue Lions, new and recruited, had won the day. It was nice to see the satisfied smiles on everyone, something had rarely been on any face since Gronder. 

The journey back to Garreg Mach should have been the easy part. A victory lap. And instead they were ambushed and split apart from one another. It had taken them nearly an hour to find Ingrid, fallen from her mount, with what looked like half a tree branch in her side and blood pouring from her head. 

And now here she was, the most still Dorothea had ever seen her. Dorothea bowed her head as if praying but said nothing. Just listened to Ingrid breathing. It had never sounded sweeter.

“Dorothea?” 

The voice was too masculine for Dorothea to care to look around right away. Dimitri’s footsteps were uncharacteristically quiet as he stepped into the infirmary. Dorothea had mixed feelings towards the future king but at least he was acting like a person again. With someone else’s eyes on her, Dorothea wondered how ridiculous she must look— kneeling on the floor with breakfast dishes scattered around the bed behind her, two cups of tea cooling and nearly untouched. 

“Any change?” He asked gently, coming to a halt at the end of Ingrid’s bed. 

“No.” Dorothea turned to him but did not let go of Ingrid. “Mercedes and Manuela say if she doesn’t wake up today then…”

“I have heard.”

They were silent for a few moments, just watching the rise and fall of Ingrid’s chest. Dorothea watched the sunlight caress her bangs. “I should wash her hair again.”

“Leave that for someone else.” Dimitri’s eye was on Ingrid’s pale face. With his hair now pulled back from his face, he looked more regal than ever. But his frown as he looked at his broken friend brought to mind a lost child. 

Dorothea squeezed Ingrid’s hand. “No.”

“You have been tending to her for three days. You are not the only one in this army who cares for her. Let us have a turn.” When she didn’t answer, Dimitri’s eye fell on her instead. If he ordered her to leave, she would have no choice but to obey. But she would hate him forever for it. 

He must have known that, for all he said was, “You look awful.”

Dorothea snorted. “Just what every lady loves to hear.”

“Ingrid would not want—”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ tell me what Ingrid would want!” Now Dorothea stood, glare fixed firmly in place. She dropped her grip on Ingrid but lay a hand on her arm protectively. “You’d barely spoken two words to her before this month. You have no right to tell me anything about her!” 

“We grew up together.” Dimitri’s voice was frustratingly patient. “If there’s anything that has not changed in all these years, it is her sense of duty. She would not want you to languish here.”

“I will languish where I like.”

“What I mean is, take an hour to yourself. A walk, tea with the Professor, perhaps a visit to the cathedral. I will wash her hair.”

Dorothea raised an eyebrow, surprise momentarily cooling her irritation. “You? You can wash hair?”

Dimitri sent her a grimace. “Perhaps I will not do as well as you, but I will try my best. For her sake and yours.”

The idea of leaving Ingrid’s side for even a moment on this day, of all days, made Dorothea’s stomach turn sour. Dimitri’s gaze was imploring, however. Lined with a tired sadness that had dogged him since Gronder. Perhaps longer.

Dorothea turned to Ingrid, bent down, and kissed her forehead. “One hour,” she whispered to Ingrid. “If this were an opera you would wait to wake up until I got back but... you can wake up any time you like.”

With a final nod to Dimitri, Dorothea gathered up the breakfast tray and left. She glanced over her shoulder in the doorway. Whereas Dorothea had sat on the empty bed beside Ingrid, Dimitri sat carefully at the foot of her bed. He rested a hand on her cheek, thumb just under her bruised eye. 

If this were an opera, he would lean in to kiss her.

Dorothea walked away, not willing to chance it.

* * *

After depositing the dishes and cups in the kitchen, Dorothea let her feet guide her. She walked the length of Garreg Mach without looking at anyone. She heard people pass her, heard conversation come to a halt as she swept by. Annette greeted her at one point but didn’t not pursue conversation, merely laying an understanding hand on her shoulder before letting her go on her way.

Dorothea wasn’t surprised her journey ended at the Goddess Tower. The place that had been off limits to her as a teen, now unguarded. Places were less sacred in war, it seemed. Dorothea took the steps deliberately, tracing her hand over the railing and thinking about the ball over five years ago. So many couples running up and down these steps. She smirked, remembering how she had caught the Professor descending halfway through the night with Seteth close behind them, both desperately fixing their clothes. 

Reaching the top, Dorothea was struck with memory— following Ingrid up here, whose arms were loaded with food; poking fun at her; learning Ingrid had been planning to have a private picnic with Dorothea, a surprised ruined by Dorothea’s sneaking around; kissing the back of Ingrid’s hand and thanking her for the kindness…

The Goddess Tower didn’t seem like the right place for a picnic any more. Dust covered everything. The stairwell was still stained with blood. 

“Do you remember the song I sang to you, Ingrid?” Dorothea said to the cold room. She raised her arms as if holding an invisible partner. “We couldn’t hear the music from the hall. I sang and led, because you said you didn’t know the first thing about dancing.”

Closing her eyes, Dorothea began to lead no one in a dance. No song came to her, no melody left her lips— but there was music in her head. Ingrid’s laughter as Dorothea twirled her. Hurried apologies when Ingrid stepped wrong. A soft “this is nice” as they held one another under the stars. The whispered wishes they had made. All of it was music to Dorothea. 

Soft hands took Dorothea’s, and someone seamlessly slotted themselves into her hold. For a moment, for just a breath, Dorothea imagined it was Ingrid. Not just awake but animated. Lively. Up for a fight or for a dance. About to make a joke about finally getting a good meal. Apologizing for all the trouble she had caused. 

But Dorothea knew that scent. Manuela smelled like healing herbs and just a hint of ale. She let Dorothea guide them around the tower in silence. 

There was still no music. And so there was no cue for the dance to end. Eventually their feet came to a halt anyway, and neither had spoken a word. 

Dorothea let out a sob.

“Oh, honey.”

Dorothea squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to make another sound. Tears were still coming. Those soft hands wound around her, pressing her face against Manuela’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

With a hiccup, the dam broke, and Dorothea let loose every cry of anguish she had kept a tight lid on for three days. The tower, which had once been filled with couples’ prayers and shy giggles, now overflowed with the sounds of Dorothea’s grief.

Manuela pet her hair but said nothing. No words of comfort would reach Dorothea right now anyway. She just wanted the hug to last forever; for the day to never run out and buy Ingrid more time. She didn’t know how much of her hour was left, or indeed if she had gone over the hour entirely. All that existed was Manuela’s light swaying and Dorothea’s unrestrained sobs. 

Footsteps, loud and with purpose, clambered up the tower steps. Dorothea picked up her head but did not let go of Manuela, who held her closer as if ready to lash out in her defense.

Dimitri burst onto the landing. Tear tracks were evident on his face, making Dorothea wonder if they matched. He broke into a wide grin when he saw her. “She is asking for you,” he breathed, voice heavy with joy.

Never in her life— not fleeing from Garreg Mach, not running to the opera house for her first day of practice— had Dorothea moved so fast. Dimitri let her pass and did not pursue as Dorothea flew down the steps, across the bridge, up to the second floor, and into the infirmary at long last.

Ingrid was sitting up, the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains as if this was just another day, just another stolen moment during a break between war meetings. 

The hand Dorothea had been holding onto for dear life just that morning reached out to her. “Dorothea, I—” 

At once, Dorothea was at her side. She wrapped her arms gingerly around Ingrid. Though strands of her hair were likely still sticky with tears, Ingrid did not complain as she hugged Dorothea back. Her hold was weaker than it should be. Dorothea pulled away, though she ached to hold Ingrid for the rest of the day. “How did you feel?”

“I’m fine. Listen—”

“You are  _ not _ fine! Don’t you try and act tough for me!” Dorothea took her chin and tilted her head this way and that, examining the bump on her head. Her hair was damp, proving Dimitri had washed it as promised. He hadn’t done too bad a job. “You must be stiff something awful. Does anything hurt too much? I can find my way around here pretty well by now, I can get you something for the pain.” 

Ingrid took her wrist. “We can do that later. Dorothea, I need—”

“Lay back, dear, you shouldn’t strain yourself so quickly.”

“Will you just—”

“Are you cold? I can grab the quilt from your room if—”

Dorothea was cut off with a kiss. Ingrid had pulled her foreward by the wrist and pressed their lips together gracelessly. Her lips were chapped and her movements spoke of inexperience, but Dorothea melted into Ingrid. She settled her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders, the only part of her that had gone uninjured, and tried to pretend there weren’t more tears sliding down her cheeks. Relief was hitting her in waves. The nightmare of the last few days was over. Music rang through Dorothea so completely that she was surprised Ingrid did not hear it.

When Ingrid pulled away she did not go far, resting her forehead against Dorothea’s and letting out labored breaths against her mouth. “I love you.”

“ _ Ingrid _ .”

“His Highness said— he reminded me that we shouldn’t hold back our feelings in war. We never know if the next battle is our last.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Or the next march home, in my case.”

Dorothea lifted her head so she could look Ingrid in the eye. There were tears gathered there as well, but Ingrid was smiling. It was the best thing Dorothea had ever seen. “Ingrid, we—”

“Will you marry me?”

Now Dorothea did rear back. “M-Marry?”

Ingrid’s cheeks, once so pale they looked as if Death had carved them, now flushed. “After the war, of course! I just, I never want to know a day without you, Dorothea. I am sorry you had to go through some without me, but I vow to stay by your side if you will have—”

“Ingrid!” Dorothea was sure her own face was just as red. Had she really been sobbing her eyes out a few minutes ago? This whole war was an emotional whirlwind but today was ridiculous. “Your family— I thought once Dimitri was king you two would, well…”

Ingrid stared at her. “What does his Highness have to do with us getting married?”

“Surely he would be the better catch.” The words left a bitter taste in Dorothea’s mouth but they had to be said.

A look of pure shock took Ingrid’s expression. “I just told you I love you and you want to push me on his Highness?!”

“No! Never! I just do not want you to make a mistake!”

“You are not a mistake! You—” Ingrid winced and clutched her side.

Dorothea cursed and helped lower her back on the bed. Ignoring Ingrid’s protests, she crossed to a cabinet and pulled out an elixir. She didn’t say a word as she measured out the correct amount and handed it to Ingrid, who drank it with only a grumble. “I should leave you to rest.”

“No.” Ingrid’s voice was firm. She held out her hand to Dorothea again, who went to her side without argument. Grunting with effort, Ingrid shifted over and pulled weakly at Dorothea. “Stay. Please.”

There was no way Dorothea would deny her at this point. She climbed into the narrow bed, trying not to lay on top of Ingrid. In contrast, Ingrid wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close for another light kiss. 

“I love you,” Ingrid repeated. A small shiver ran down Dorothea at the words. “And, if you’ll have me, I would like to see this war through with you. I want to show you my home. I want to be a knight worthy of your hand. I want…” A sigh as her words ran out. “I want  _ you _ , Dorothea. Not anyone else.”

Dorothea reached up to cup her wounded cheek, just as Dimitri had that morning. “You remember when you gave me that ring? And I made fun of you for proposing?”

“Yes?”

“I still have it.” Dorothea smiled. “When you are well enough, I’ll give it to you and you can ask me again.”

Ingrid chuckled. “I hope you’ll have the same answer. I recall you being quite amiable to the idea.” 

Her eyes were slipping closed, but it evoked an image of peace rather than fear. Dorothea pressed a light kiss to her nose and rested her head on the pillow. An afternoon nap with her soon-to-be fiancée sounded  _ wonderful _ .

“Dorothea?”

“Hm?”

“Can you… can you sing to me?”

Dorothea cuddled closer, lips just above Ingrid’s ear. “Of course, my love. I know just the song.”


End file.
